A Grimm Perspective
by sleapyGazelle
Summary: The story of Sirius Black, from his final year at Hogwarts until his escape from Azkaban. Cover image by Mishke (Tumblr: mishkestrash)
1. January 1978

**A/N:** This fic is going to start off cheery, and gradually get darker. There are 7 chapters to this, and I'll be publishing weekly. I've tried to stay true to canon-Sirius. If you read it, please drop me a review! Enjoy ^_^

* * *

 **January 1978**

"Buzz off, Snuffles," James muttered ominously, doing his best to appear irritated.

"It's no good, mate," Sirius teased gleefully. "Your ears are a particularly incriminating shade of pink."

Professor McGonagall chose that moment to sharply draw her pupils' attention back to their assigned task of conjuring quills, and James was spared from immediately answering. But Sirius was relentless. When class ended, he resumed his conspiratorial whispering, "No need to be embarrassed. Lily's the one who should be afraid of associating with you; she's way out of your league. Honestly, I don't know why you're not parading through the halls boasting. It's only taken you seven years to convince her."

"In the name of Merlin, Sirius! One date! She agreed to _one date_." Realizing belatedly that he'd raised his voice more than was ideal - as evidenced by the curious stares - he added more softly, "Quit acting like we're getting married or something."

Sirius's eyebrows shot up. "Or _something_?"

"Oh shove it, Padfoot," James bristled, picking up pace and leaving Sirius and his barking laughter behind, his own lips twitching upward as he thought of Lily.

* * *

"C'mon, mate. Everything's got to be perfect. We need you!" Sirius implored Remus.

Remus sat by the Great Lake, with his back to a tree, and until a moment ago, had been engrossed in astronomy homework. "Who's _we_?"

" _We_ is me speaking on behalf of James and Lily, of course," said Sirius, almost matter-of-factly. "And Peter," he added.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Lily does _not_ need me to help you guys get in trouble."

"Precisely!" said Sirius, with an air of triumph. "You know I'm self sufficient when it comes to trouble. We need you to help us stay out of it."

Remus laughed. "I suppose that's always been my calling. I ought to stop denying that now."

"That's the spirit, Moony!" With a wink, Sirius scooped up Remus's sheets of parchment and stuffed them into the bag by Remus's feet. "C'mon, then."

"Now?" Remus was running after Sirius, who had begun to sprint back to the castle. "I thought you said there's an hour before they need to sneak out."

"We'll need the better part of that hour just to explain the plan to Wormtail."

"Bloody hell, Sirius."

Grinning, Sirius kept running until he reached the common room. A quick look around revealed Peter heading upstairs toward the dormitories. Sirius chased after him, dragging Remus along. Once safely inside, Sirius shut the door and perched on the four-poster.

"Sirius!" Peter exclaimed cheerfully. "Are we planning something?"

In response, Sirius pulled the Marauder's Map out from its hiding place in the ceiling of his bed's canopy. Peter plopped himself across from Sirius, visibly excited.

"Where's the man of the hour?" Remus asked.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Sirius stated, tapping the map with his wand. "James will probably join us in a bit. I think he's confirming some things with Lily." The previously blank parchment populated itself with labeled points moving about the castle. Peter's eyes flitted across the page.

"Lily… has actually said yes… right?"

"Ugh. _Details_." He let out a bark of laughter at Remus's exasperated face. "Oh, I'm only messing with you, Moony. Of course she has." He twirled his wand between his thumb and finger. "It's our mission to make sure she doesn't regret that decision.

"Alright, so the plan is that they'll skip dinner for a romantic evening in Hogsmeade, and sneak back right after curfew."

"And we're helping them sneak out and back in without getting caught," offered Peter.

Sirius nodded approvingly.

Half an hour later, the plan was ready. Remus and Peter would head to the fourth floor bathrooms, distracting any professors. James and Lily would follow, sneaking out through the secret passageway behind the mirror; and Sirius would bring up the rear, stalling anyone approaching from behind. Then, exactly two hours later, they would sneak back in the same way, with the other three standing guard to allow the couple to pass through the fourth floor corridor to Gryffindor tower undetected.

Feeling rather smug, Sirius allowed Peter to erase the map with a pleased 'mischief managed.' He blasted a current of cold air in James's face as the latter finally entered the dormitory. "That's for leaving your friends alone to do all your dirty work for you," he accused; but he was grinning.

* * *

Peter and Remus made their way down the fourth floor corridor, doing their best to appear casual but confident. Lily followed a dozen paces behind them, and not far on her heels, James. Sirius let them walk for a bit before following, leaving the cover of a pillar just as the others reached the end of the corridor.

"Sirius, my boy!" a voice boomed in his left ear. _Oh._

"Hello, Professor Slughorn." Sirius offered him his most charming smile. Then, thinking better of it, he dialed it down to a less suspicious degree. "Heading down for dinner, sir?"

Slughorn chuckled, patting his large belly. "Yes, m'boy! A man must eat, eh? Come along." He proceeded toward the stairs; if he went any further, he would see the others heading to the bathroom.

"Sir!" he called, rushing ahead and blocking Slughorn's path. "I often come here to gaze upon the grounds from this balcony," he led Slughorn to the window. "Do you think, sir, that those mountains beyond the lake are aware of the significance of what they guard?" Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius saw Remus and Peter making their way back. _James and Lily must have made it out_ , he thought happily.

"Whatever do you mean, m'boy? Mountains are not sentient!"

He gestured urgently to his friends to clear the corridor. They broke into a quiet run, just as Slughorn looked up at Sirius. He promptly rerouted his hand into his hair. "Well, sir, I just wonder. I've heard the statues of Hogwarts have an inherent sense of duty to guard the castle, and that they're just waiting to be awakened. It would make sense, wouldn't it? The statues are made of stone, the _mountains_ are made of stone. Surely…?" He trailed off as Remus and Peter went out of sight. Slughorn was just beginning to reply, when Sirius cut in:

"Just some food for thought, sir! I'm sure you're right, though. The mountains are nothing like our guardian statues. They're probably more like the giants - nonallied and neutral - if anything. Well I'm ravenous! See you around, Professor." With that he sauntered off toward the staircase, leaving an utterly bemused Slughorn in his wake.


	2. 1978 - Part 2

**A/N:** This is a longer chapter, and it was really fun to write. Reviews are much appreciated!

* * *

 **February 1978**

"Mail's here!" James chirped. It was breakfast time; and as usual, the Marauders sat together. "Mum said she'd send me an early birthday present."

Remus and Peter followed James's gaze. Sirius smiled for his friends, but did not share their expectant look towards the delivery owls. His own mother hated her rebel of a son. And if she ever did send any mail, it was for Regulus, he thought, glancing darkly toward the Slytherin table where his brother sat. To his great surprise, a bright red envelope was dropped in front of him. _Oh no._ He was _not_ in the mood for public humiliation. But he knew from experience that howlers got worse the longer you didn't open them. He braced himself before tearing it open, but Walburga's shrill yell still made him wince. "YOU BLOOD-TRAITOR EXCUSE FOR A SON! YOU GOOD-FOR-NOTHING DUNCE." Surely every ear in the great hall was being acquainted with Mrs. Black's singular vocal chords. "YOU DARE TAINT MY HOME WITH FILTHY MUGGLE SCUM! THE ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK WILL NOT BE POLLUTED WITH POSTERS OF MUDBLOOD WHORES!" Sirius's grimace steadily turned to a smirk. "YOU WILL COME HOME AND REMOVE THEM AT ONCE!" And with that, the howler burst into flames, leaving no trace of Walburga's wrath except a small pile of ashes on Sirius's bacon.

"I guess she found your poster of Tennis Girl," James whispered, and Sirius's smirk turned into full-fledged laughter. Moony and Wormtail joined in, as the rest of the students nervously resumed their chatter, some discussing the latest grim news of the wizarding war from _The Daily Prophet_.

His latest attempt to defy his family and their values had consisted of using a permanent sticking charm to affix a few poster girls from muggle magazines on his already red-and-gold bedroom walls during the Christmas holidays. It looked like his mother had finally seen them, and his rebellion had been on the mark. She knew as well as he did that he wasn't going to take them down. But when he next went home, he would roll out the next stage of mutiny. A mischievous glint lit his grey eyes. James caught the look and grinned at the familiar sight.

* * *

 **June 1978**

The Marauders and Lily got off the Hogwarts express together, for the last time. They looked around the platform. Peter and Remus spotted their parents and trotted off in different directions, bidding the others goodbye. Lily gave James a quick kiss before rushing off toward her parents. James and Sirius pushed their luggage as they searched the faces on the platform for the Potters.

A bit away from the humans stood a hideous lone house elf, gazing expectantly toward the train. A scowl materialized on Sirius's face; and when their eyes met, the look was returned. Oh, how he hated that elf. Kreacher was just as prejudiced as - if not more than - the Blacks he served. His loyalty went beyond the magic that bound him to his masters; Kreacher _delighted_ in listening to pureblood fanatics. He was pure evil. He glared at Sirius now with undisguised hatred. Sirius had half a mind to order him to go home, just to deprive him the pleasure of seeing his beloved master Reg. But he stopped himself. Regulus didn't deserve that. As if on cue, Regulus's voice rang out in joy. "Kreach!"

Rolling his eyes, Sirius turned back to James, who had found his parents and was waving at them frantically. "C'mon," said James; and the two made their way to Fleamont and Euphemia. They immediately pulled their son into an affectionate embrace. James patted their shoulders sheepishly. "Alright, alright. I'm happy to see you too." When they didn't let go, James added, "Mum! Dad! You're embarrassing me." Chuckling, they finally released him, turning their attention to Sirius, who was sniggering but whose eyes betrayed a mixture of happiness and envy.

Once they had sufficiently fussed over the boys, Mr. and Mrs. Potter lead the way off the platform, Sirius grabbed James's arm as soon as his parents jogged through the wall. "Think we'll get a chance to visit your basement?" he whispered conspiratorially, punching James in the shoulder.

"I'm way ahead of you, mate. Your bike is ready and waiting."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "How'd you manage that?"

"I wrote ahead to my neighbor's son. The one who left Hogwarts last year. I asked him to retrieve it from the basement and hide it in the garage. He's really good at stealthy magic, you know. Did it all from outside the house."

Sirius nodded, impressed. "The minute I can get it to fly, I am apparating with that baby straight home, to rub in my mother's face."

" I hope you don't mean that literally," teased James. "That would probably cause her some serious injury."

Smiling, Sirius shoved James through the wall, and followed a moment later.

"There you are," said Fleamont. "Come along, boys."

Once home, and fully fed (courtesy Mrs. Potter), the two friends retreated to the outhouse, which doubled as a garage. At the back, under a once-white cloth that didn't quite cover it, sat Sirius's Triumph Bonneville. "You call that hidden?" he demanded, incredulous. "Your mum or dad step one foot in here, and it's the first thing they'd see!"

But James assured him they never came in here. "And even if they found it, they'd think it was pretty cool."

"I appreciate the support, mate; but I'm pretty sure what I'm doing with Bonnie is illegal."

" _Bonnie?_ "

Sirius barked out a laugh. "My Triumph _Bonne_ ville, my Bonnie. She's the only one I've ever had eyes for." He gazed at the motorcycle fondly as James laughed. "The flight features I'm adding can't possibly be ministry-approved. And why'd you cover her with this filthy rag of a cloth?" He yanked it away, and knelt beside the bike. "Don't worry, Bonnie. He doesn't value you, but I do."

"Knock off your theatrics for two minutes," said James, flinging a broomstick at him.

Assuring Bonnie he'd be back soon, and imploring her not to be jealous of the broomstick, which was the lesser mode of transport by a long shot, Sirius picked up the broom and followed James outside.

In the air, they tossed a quaffle back and forth. A few moments of comfortable silence passed before James broke it. "She's coming over to meet my parents next week."

Sirius nodded sagely. "Don't worry. They'll love Lily. Everyone does."

James grinned proudly.

"What about you meeting her folks?"

James turned thoughtful. "She hasn't asked me to yet. I think she's nervous about her sister. She hasn't given up on Petunia accepting her. From what Lily's told me about her though, I don't see it happening. But I don't have the heart to tell her that."

"I've started looking for a flat," Sirius said after a few moments.

James was caught off guard. "What? Are you having any problems living here?"

"No, no. You should know better than to think that. I feel _welcome_ here, Prongs." Sirius gave him a genuine smile, the kind that lit his eyes. "But I can't keep imposing on you. And you and Lily will probably get married soon. As much as I love it here, staying back with your parents after you move out might get a bit weird."

"Hang on just a minute there. _What_ did you say?"

Sirius shot James an all-knowing look that seemed to peer right through him. "Are you going to deny it?"

"Well no, but how the hell did you know? I only decided to ask her yesterday."

"It's been written all over your face for weeks. Maybe even months."

James just shook his head, smiling slightly, and threw the quaffle at Sirius's head. Naturally, he didn't miss.

* * *

 **November 1978**

Sirius apparated in front of 12 Grimmauld Place, seated on his Triumph Bonneville. If Remus were here, he would have chided him on secrecy from muggles. But Remus _wasn't_ here, and this situation called for a healthy dose of Signature Sirius Dramatic Flair. Still he took a quick look around, and seeing no one in the immediate vicinity, launched into the air, settling into a low hover.

"Mo-therr, I'm ho-oome!" he called

Walburga stuck her head out a front window, and took in the ridiculous sight of her older son sitting astride a flying motorcycle. Her jaw slackened for a few moments, her face registering nothing but shock.

Sirius grinned impishly. In that moment, his mother, devoid of her perpetually sour expression, didn't resemble a banshee all that much. "Well don't just stand there. Open the door."

Hearing his voice again brought her back to her senses, and her features twisted into that unique mix of anger and disappointment. "Oh, you devil child." She spoke in a low menacing tone instead of her regular shrill cry. "You torture your poor mother so. You are no son of mine. Look at you. Flying that muggle contraption. Sitting on it like it were some throne. You will pay for how you ill-treat the great name Black."

"Do you mean I _black_ en it, mum?" Sirius couldn't help himself.

Walburga's shrill cry might have erupted after all, but just then, Regulus threw open the door, giving Sirius his own brand of disappointed look. This version Sirius was less-equipped to take in stride. Ignoring his brother, he flew the bike inside.

"WHERE ARE YOU BRINGING THAT ABOMINATION? I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW IT IS _NOT_ WELCOME IN MY HOUSE!"

Sirius sighed, feeling quite at home. Not that that was necessarily a good thing in this case. He parked the motorcycle by the stairs and turned back to his sputtering mother and gaping brother. "Touch this bike and I will destroy everything in this house. And I mean _everything_." With that, he proceeded to his room on the topmost landing.

Once inside, he felt a lot of sheer stress just drip away. This room, every inch covered in red and gold, and muggle swimsuit models and motorcycles, had been his refuge from his unbearable household until about two years ago, when he left for good to live with the Potters at age 16. That was when a one-room refuge was no longer enough. It had started to feel like the house was closing in on him.

Shaking the unpleasant thoughts away, he turned his attention to his wardrobe. Opening it, he found that many of his Gryffindor-pride clothes were gone. That was to be expected. His mother would throw away anything that _soiled_ this her great House of Black. He scanned the room one last time, before deciding there was nothing here worth taking with him. At least nothing that wasn't permanently affixed to the walls, and those things better served their spiteful purpose here, right above his mother's head. And besides, his primary purpose in coming here today was to get one last act of mutiny under his belt. He turned around and made his way back down the stairs. He had failed to spot a picture lying under his bed of him and the other Marauders, standing together grinning at the wizard camera.

Downstairs, his mother was scowling at the motorcycle, and Regulus was doing his best to comfort her. "You really don't show the least bit of concern for mum's nerves, do you big brother?" he hissed.

"Nope." Sirius gave a shrug of practiced nonchalance, skillfully hiding his grimace at his brother's tone.. "And I've given up trying to convince you that it's no use, so carry on Reg." He mounted the bike again.

"You will NOT be welcomed back here again, boy," said Walburga.

"Oh don't worry, dear mother. I came only to pick up some things I could take to my new flat." He relished the fleeting surprise on her face when she learned he was further distancing himself from his identity as a Black. "I have no desire, whatsoever, to live in this great house of a most despicable family." He finally allowed some of the venom he was feeling to leak into his voice. Regulus blanched, but Walburga's eyes only hardened further, something Sirius had not thought possible. Gripping the handlebars tightly, Sirius disapparated, this time sure that he was leaving his past behind for good.


	3. Fall 1979

**Fall, 1979**

"What was that?"

"Lumos!"

Sirius and Remus stood with their backs to each other, stiff with alertness, wands drawn and lit, senses heightened from adrenaline.

Sirius's gaze was fixed on the copse about five yards in front of him, where a dark shadow had just vanished. Behind him, Remus's eyes were trained on the peaceful-looking woodside cabin they had just come out of. Aging naturalist Gulliver Tharsh had written to Dumbledore, asking for help with a "dark presence" around his home. He was afraid Voldemort was after his research on the strengthening abilities of Kneazle hair. Dumbledore had not taken him very seriously, but had asked for two members of the Order to go meet him nonetheless, out of respect.

Remus, having always been an admirer of Tharsh's work, had volunteered. Always happy to go somewhere new, especially if that somewhere was potentially dangerous, so had Sirius.

Tharsh had served them tea, and rambled on about his work and the threats to it from Death Eaters, even managing to bore Remus. They did their best to reassure him of their resistance efforts, but darkness had fallen before he'd let them go. Once they had stepped out, however, Sirius had heard the swish of a cloak.

"Homenum revelio," he muttered, pointing his wand toward the source of the sound. A masked Death Eater suddenly came into view as the thicket around her flickered invisible. She visibly stiffened as she felt the spell, and raised her own wand.

"Stupefy!" Sirius yelled, before she could.

"Well done," said Remus, as the spell hit its mark. But a second later, five Death Eaters apparated, surrounding them.

"You can heap praise on me later. REDUCTO!" Two trees exploded to Sirius's right. As the Death Eaters scattered, Sirius and Remus dashed in opposite directions. Two Death Eaters turned to Remus; the other three faced Sirius. They each promptly took one down with a stunning spell.

"Are you _actually_ after the Kneazle hair?" Sirius demanded, incredulous.

"Voldemort must be getting desperate," quipped Remus. A jet of red light shot toward his head in response. He ducked, narrowly avoiding it.

"Doing alright there, Moony?" he teased.

"I've only got one left - Protego!" He dodged a killing curse. "You've still got two."

Sirius took down an opponent with a nonverbal body bind spell. "Not anymore!" He turned around to smirk at his friend but he was gone. So was the Death Eater he'd been fighting. A jet of green light shot past his ear, jolting him back to the fight. "Protego! STUPEFY!"

Sirius stood in the silence, dread growing in the pit of his stomach. A soft footstep sounded in the grass behind him. He whirled around.

"There you are, mate!" His shoulders sagged in relief. Remus walked toward him slowly, his eyes trained on Sirius, but unseeing. His face was expressionless. "No. No, no, no. Moony!" But he did not respond to Sirius's words. Remus raised his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Sirius shot, refusing to hurt him.

"Protego," he blocked him easily. "Avada-"

"No!" He jumped behind the nearest tree. Peering out at Remus's approaching form, he took aim and whispered, "Confundus." Remus froze, then looked around, a bemused expression on his face. Under different circumstances, Sirius would have found the look funny. He needed to find the Death Eater who had Imperiused Remus.

He dashed from tree to tree, circumambulating toward the thicket Remus had emerged from. Once he had put enough distance between himself and his friend, he left the cover of the trees to crouch behind a shrub. For a few frustrating moments, all he could see were the silhouettes of trees. His eyes finally found a hooded, masked figure trying to focus on something in the distance.

She didn't see Sirius. But he recognized her. Bellatrix. His least favorite cousin. And that was a tough contest to win.

"It's not like you to attack from a hiding place, sweet cousin," he called out, startling her. She recovered quickly, and turned to face him, her eyes lit with madness. Her mouth twisted into a sneer that distorted her beautiful features. Or maybe it was the hatred that did that. That, at least, was mutual.

"It _is_ very much like _you_ to be embarrassing the family." Her voice dripped with saccharine as she added, "It's not too late. I am among the Dark Lord's most loyal and trusted. I can _put in a good word_ for my dear cousin."

They raised their wands in perfect synchrony, and dueled, their wands a blur, Remus entirely forgotten.

Released from both the Imperious curse and the Confundus charm, he made his way toward the sounds of the fight. Out of the corners of their eyes, both Sirius and Bellatrix saw him raise his wand. Sirius cast a hex at the same time Remus did. Unable to block two simultaneous spells from opposite directions, Bellatrix let out a howl of fury, and disapparated.

"Nice job, Padfoot." But Remus's words were drowned out as Sirius yelled at the air that had replaced Bellatrix in front of him.

"NO! COWARD! Come back and finish the fight!"

"She's gone, Sirius."

He bit back the words that he almost shouted in response. _She was mine!_ "You shouldn't have interfered," he grumbled instead.

Remus scoffed. "Well, sorry to break up the family reunion! By the way, that gash on your arm looks nasty. I reckon Bella wanted you to have a token to remember your duel."

" _Vulnera sanentur._ You want to get out of here, or what?" Sirius had thoughts only for the hatred welling up inside him.

"Sure, but you better let me. Who knows where you'll end up if you try to apparate while this agitated."

He nodded once, and Remus took his elbow. At that moment, he tuned everything out. He closed his eyes, and let himself feel the the anger and the pain, as he forced his thoughts to focus on Bellatrix's face. He breathed, allowing the face to morph into Walburga's. Then Regulus's. Then, releasing the anger, he turned his mind to very different faces: James, Remus, Peter, Lily. As he did, the furrows on his brow smoothed out.

It worked every time.

He opened his eyes to see the Potters' house and Remus peering at him with concern. He grinned. "Did I scare you, Moony?"

He looked at Sirius for a moment. Sirius knew he was looking for a hint that the smile had reached his eyes. It had.

"No," he smiled. "But I think you scared your demons off."

Sirius chuckled. _For now._

"I won't come in," Remus said, when Sirius began to walk up to the door. "I'm going straight to Dumbledore. I don't know if Voldemort is actually after Tharsh, but he needs protection." He hesitated before adding, "Things are getting really bad Sirius."

He nodded.

"Sorry I tried to kill you."

"Don't be silly. That wasn't you. It was Bellatrix."

"Still…

"Be vigilant."

"You too." Remus turned on the spot and left with a loud crack.


	4. Fall 1980

**Fall, 1980**

Sirius apparated into Godric's Hollow, and walked down the moonlit path to the Potters' cottage. He mulled over James's words in his head. Dumbledore was coming to deliver some grim news, but James had refused to speculate on what it was. He and Lily had insisted Sirius be there with them to hear whatever it was Dumbledore felt was urgent enough to warrant a personal visit at this hour. Sirius's worst fear was that the hiding place had been discovered.

He thought of Baby Harry, his godson, as he walked briskly on, wearing a somber expression that was growing increasingly characteristic on his handsome features.

He knocked on the cottage door lightly, spelling out "Harry" on the wood with his knuckles.

"What was I wearing when I first met you?" James's clear but strained voice carried through the door.

"The flashiest red-accented robes I had ever seen," Sirius shot back, a ghost of his old grin materializing on his face. "And I've seen some pretty flashy stuff as a Black, so that's saying something," he added, as the door opened and he was pulled into a bear hug, not by James but by Lily. She looked radiant as ever; motherhood suited her very well. Suddenly overcome with affection, he held her tightly. James shut the door and pocketed his wand.

"Don't apologize. I know you have to check," Sirius cut in before James could speak. Still speaking over Lily's head as he held her, he added, "I would have been upset if you _hadn't_ asked."

"He's in the sitting room," Lily said, finally pulling away from his chest to lead the way.

Sirius fell into step with James. "So why is he here? What has he said?"

"He arrived just before you did. He hasn't said anything yet. I asked him to wait for you."

Sirius nodded. They walked into the sitting room to find Dumbledore standing with his hand on the back of the chair Lily had offered him, his fingers drumming absently. Harry dozed in his crib, tucked into his favorite snitch-print blanket.

Dumbledore gave a small smile of greeting to Sirius, but it could not mask the worry behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Let's talk over some tea," James quipped, and Lily magicked three cups of earl grey onto the table.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said, seeming to have found his voice again. "Tea adds a great deal of pleasantry to many an unpleasant situation." He finally settled into the chair, and the others sat on the sofa before him.

"I should tell you three beforehand, the news is grim indeed, and it is true without a doubt. But there is hope still. The fact that we know this _now_ , when we can still act on this information, will make all the difference."

Sirius itched to ask for the details, but he knew Dumbledore would explain at his own pace. All three of them stared into his clear blue eyes expectantly, giving him their complete attention.

"There has been… a prophecy… concerning Voldemort. It predicts, perhaps, his downfall."

"That's good, isn't it?" Lily brightened.

"Basically yes," Dumbledore agreed. "It says a boy may bring about his end. That neither can live while the other survives."

"A boy?" Lily repeated, her eyes seeking out Harry's sleeping form a few feet away from her.

"Yes, Mrs. Potter. Voldemort has gained knowledge of this prophecy, and it saddens me exceedingly to tell you that he has interpreted it to refer to young Harry.

"But why?" James bellowed, jumping to his feet. "Why Harry? The prophecy could mean anyone." He began pacing. Dumbledore continued looking at the spot James had just vacated on the sofa.

"The prophecy specifies a boy born at the end of July."

"Of _this_ year?" Lily's voice was barely above a whisper. She already knew the answer.

"Yes, my dear. Born at the end of this July to parents who have defied Voldemort thrice." Anticipating James's further objections, Dumbledore continued, "There are two possible boys the prophecy could have referred to - Harry, and the Longbottoms' son, born a day before Harry. The prophecy leaves it up to Voldemort to mark one of them as his equal. According to an indisputable source, whose anonymity I have vowed to protect," he added with a pointed look at James, "he has chosen Harry."

James returned to his seat. Lily put her arm through his. Harry slept on peacefully.

Dumbledore addressed Sirius. "I believe a Fidelius Charm would be the best protection."

A minute of silence followed, in which no one quite knew what to say. Sirius had always been the one to make light of such situations with an easy grace; but jokes no longer came to him as easily as they once had. Dumbledore spoke first. "You'll need a secret keeper. I am at your disposal, my dear James and Lily. But keep in mind that I am an aging man, not to mention, one of Voldemort's most vocal detractors. If I were to die - naturally or otherwise - before the threat against Harry is eliminated, your secret could be revealed by anyone who will have learned of it from me."

James stared at his shoes, visibly struggling against his fate, but growing more resigned by the moment. "Sirius," he stated, his decision made. Looking hastily at Dumbledore, he added, "Not that we wouldn't be safe with you as our Secret Keeper, professor. It's just that if I were asked for the one person I would trust blindly with not only my life but that of my wife and son, the first name that comes to mind is Sirius. That's why it's gotta be him."

 _That's precisely the reason it_ shouldn't _be me_ , Sirius thought to himself. But Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "That is exactly the question you should be asking yourself. I respect your choice, and Mr. Black is most certainly worthy."

"You'll do it, won't you, Sirius?" Lily asked him. Clearly lost in thought, he nodded once.

Dumbledore wished them luck and the Potters saw him to the door. Sirius barely heard the crack of his departure over the din of his own thoughts.

"Mate?"

"Sorry, I was thinking." He sighed. He walked over to Harry and brushed a lock of the baby's hair with his finger. "I can't be secret keeper."

"Explain." Hurt flickered across James's face. Lily stood perplexed.

"Oh, don't look like that. It's for your own good. Anyone who's _ever_ met us would guess that you'd choose me. So, we should instead go with someone _we_ can trust beyond doubt but whom no one _else_ would suspect."

James was shaking his head already. "The Fidelius Charm is ancient and powerful magic. No one could coerce you into giving up our location. You won't have to tell anyone unless you want to."

"James is right," Lily added. "It doesn't matter if they can guess it's you. They still can't do anything unless _you_ betray us."

James grinned. "Did your blood finally get to your head, Padfoot? Bellatrix recruited you didn't she?" He shook his head dramatically. "I always feared this would happen. This is the end, then."

Lily chuckled. Sirius didn't miss a beat. "It was actually Snape who got to me. He snogged me and then I couldn't say no to him. For anything." James nearly woke Harry with his laughter.

"Trust me, Prongs. Choosing someone else will be like an additional line of defense. Voldemort will focus all his energies on trying to get the information out of me. Meanwhile your secret will be safe with Peter."

" _Peter_?"

"James," began Lily.

"Oh, no; I don't mean it that way. He's _Wormtail_. If I can't trust him, then my whole life is a lie. But," he hesitated. "Why him specifically? Why aren't you suggesting Remus?"

Sirius didn't answer right away. Finally he said, "These are times when we can't even trust those closest to us. Anyone could be Imperiused. Even choosing Wormtail is not without risk. But he's loyal. To a fault. He stuck with us even though we used to be jerks to him." They both cringed at the memories. "And people have always underestimated him," continued Sirius. "This time, that will work in his favor. In your favor."

"But before," interjected Lily, "in front of Dumbledore, you said you'd do it. Did you change your mind after he left?" He shook his head.

"Then why didn't you say any of this in front of him?"

"The fewer people that know, the safer you'll be. Let everyone be under the impression that it's me. No-one but the three of us and Peter will know who the real secret keeper is."

"But Remus -"

"No, Lily. Not another soul." Sirius was adamant.

"You're asking me to lie to Moony?" James clearly couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I'm not telling you to cut him off. He's our Moony after all. But every additional person we tell becomes a liability. He has enough on his plate as it is."

James was putting on a sour face. Lily didn't look much happier.

"Okay, mate. If you're so sure we'll be better off with Peter, we'll trust you on this. Lily?"

She nodded. "I'm starting to agree with Sirius. It's not just about you and me. This is about Harry. He's our responsibility. We have to protect him."

"So that's that then. I'll go get Wormtail." Sirius got to his feet.

"I hope he says yes," mused Lily.

"Don't worry about that. He'd do anything for his mates."


	5. November 1, 1981

**November 1, 1981**

It was over.

And it was his fault.

 _He_ had pushed James and Lily to trust Peter with their lives. And now they were dead.

Peter.

Oh, when he got his hands on Peter. That _rat_ would never know what hit him.

No. He would know. He would look his own betrayal in the eye before he died. Sirius would make sure he understood what he was paying for. Then he would make his end as painful as possible. The vermin would _suffer_. With that thought, he threw his glass of water across the kitchen. It shattered against the wall. Harry's wailing got louder in the next room. Sirius ignored it. He sat down cross-legged on the floor beside the shards. He tucked his head into his arms, and his elbows into his sides. Curling up as tight as he could, Sirius cried. He sobbed until tears came, and he continued long after they stopped.

He must have fallen asleep like that, because he woke to a crash outside the window accompanied by a distinctive yell. Hagrid. Sirius forced himself onto shaky legs.

Why was it so quiet, he wondered as soon as he stood up. _Harry_. The baby's cries no longer filled what remained of the cottage. With rapidly mounting dread, he ran into the bedroom, forgetting to shield his eyes from the remains of James and Lily. Harry had cried himself to sleep. The relief that his godson was still safely there was worth the fresh wave of nausea that hit him when he saw the bodies of his friends that littered the floor. Forcing himself to look away, he walked out to meet Hagrid.

"Ruddy shrubs," Hagrid was muttering, as he untangled himself from branches and leaves. He looked up at the Potters' cottage. Or what remained of it, rather. The front half had been blasted away. Silent tears made their way into his massive brown beard. Then his eyes slid to Sirius's inconspicuous form near what used to be the door. Hagrid visibly pulled himself together.

"Sirius! When did yeh get here?"

Sirius refrained from answering. If he tried to say anything, the sobs, interrupted when he fell asleep, would continue.

Hagrid seemed to understand. He lumbered over to Sirius and pulled him into a gruff embrace. "It'll be a'right Sirius. Yeh'll see. We need ter be strong fer Harry."

Sirius still could not speak. He just allowed himself to be held, his own hands fisted and buried in his leather jacket pockets. _Nothing would be alright._ He knew Hagrid was trying to comfort him. But Harry would never know James's goofy pranks. Would never again see his eyes mirrored in Lily's beaming face. James would never get to tell the dad jokes he was -had been - cultivating. Lily would never teach Harry to play the guitar. _Nothing would be alright ever again._ Peter. Where was Peter?

Hagrid was still saying something. "It's someplace called Private Drive. Lily's sister an' her husband live there. I gotta take Harry there."

"You can't take him." Sirius was suddenly lucid. "He's _my_ responsibility."

Hagrid patted him on the back reassuringly. He still managed to knock the wind out of him a little. "I know how yeh feel, Sirius. But it's fer his own safety. Dumbledore's orders.

"But, Hagrid, I'm his godfather." He sounded like a desperate child, even to himself. He took a shaky breath before continuing. "The whole point of that is that I take care of him if anything happens to…" His breath was gone again, but this time it was a fresh bout of grief.

Hagrid wiped at his now wet beard. "You-Know-Who came fer Harry, Sirius. And Harry's still alive. No one knows what's going on. We gotta protect Harry. Dumbledore believes Lily's sister can give Harry some ancient magical protection."

"She's a muggle!"

"It's got something ter do wi' her blood relation ter Harry. Dumbledore didn't explain."

Of course he didn't. He had also believed the Fidelius Charm would protect the Potters. _It would have. If it hadn't been for_ him _forcing them to choose Peter as Secret Keeper._ Peter. He had to find Peter.

"I'm sure his aunt an' uncle won' mind yeh visitin' yer godson."

He should leave _now_ if he wanted to catch Peter. He'd probably disappear with Voldemort soon. That _traitor_. How could he have given them up? James and Lily.

Hagrid was still talking, Sirius guiltily realized for the second time that night. Hagrid was just trying to comfort him. He deserved a better victim to console, Sirius thought absently.

"Take my motorcycle."

"Wha…?"

"It flies. You'll get to Dumbledore faster. And Harry will be safe in the sidecar. Wait here, Hagrid; I'll go get it." He disapparated without waiting for a response.

This was good. Harry would be safe while Sirius avenged his parents. And once he'd dealt with the filth, he'd come back for his godson. He'd rebuild the cottage and raise Harry there, showing him everything there was to know about James and Lily. Harry would never miss them. Because he would feel like he knew them better than anyone.

Sirius staggered into his rented garage space, and approached his motorcycle. A quick check revealed no one around. Grasping a handlebar firmly in his hand, he disapparated, and arrived back in front of a bewildered Hagrid.

"There yeh are," Hagrid exclaimed.

"Hmm. It is a bit small for you. That's no matter. Engorgio." The bike grew until it could accommodate Hagrid fairly comfortably.

"But why're yeh givin' me this? You love this motorcycle."

"I won't be needing it. At least not for a while. Now take Harry and go. I'm entrusting you with my godson. Take care of him, Hagrid."

The half giant drew himself up to his full height, making a rather formidable sight. "You can count on me. I'll keep yer boy safe."

Sirius nodded. "I'll get him." He walked back to the bedroom, and gently picked up the sleeping bundle of blankets. Harry stirred lightly in his arms. His head fit perfectly against Sirius's shoulder. "I love you. Be brave," he whispered into the soft skin of his forehead. He brought him out and slowly placed him in Hagrid's surprisingly gentle hands. "Go."

Hagrid mounted the motorcycle, which shuddered and sunk under his weight. He put Harry in the sidecar, and took off.

Sirius took one last look at his friends. _There would have to be a funeral_ , it occurred to him vaguely. But he didn't pay much heed to the thought. Fantasies of Peter's cracking neck were overtaking his consciousness. He visualized Peter's flat as clearly as he could, and disapparated.

Sirius knew as soon as he landed in the kitchen that the flat was deserted. It was eerily quiet, and the ferns were drying up. He noticed that the dishes were all put away. In fact, nothing was out of place. He walked out into the living room. The plain brown sofa sat facing the small but spotless window. A single chair was positioned by a single-seater breakfast table, which Sirius knew also served as a dining table. Everything was exactly the same as it always was. But the simple style Sirius has once admired now filled him with hatred. It spoke to him of the coward's lack of character. There was no personality in this flat. It wasn't a home; it just served its purpose as a shelter.

Scowling, he made his way to the bedroom. The twin bed was unmade, as usual. But the nightstand drawer was pulled open. Sirius walked over and peered inside. Odds and ends were littered about, but a square patch of wood was suspiciously showing clear through. _He took something from here and left in a hurry._ Wondering what it could have been, Sirius began a search of the room, pulling open closets and grabbing things off shelves with no regard for his former friend's property. He found nothing of note, and was growing agitated, until his fingers brushed cardstock in one of the coat pockets he was rifling through. He hurriedly pulled it out. It was an index card with a note: "Jack. Tue 3. Parcel Yard." Sirius recognized Peter's hand, even though his normally neat and precise lettering was messy and haphazard. _Tuesday at 3,_ But which Tuesday? If Sirius was lucky, it would be the day after tomorrow. If he wasn't, it would have been last week.

He had nothing to lose at this point, except time. He resolved to show up on Tuesday and wait for the swine. If he didn't show… he'd think about that if it came to it.


	6. November 3, 1981

**A/N:** This is the penultimate chapter. As you can guess, the next installment will take us inside the infamous prison. And it will be hella more fast paced than this one. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Tuesday, November 3, 1981 - Morning**

Sirius sipped coffee. It scalded his tongue; he forgot to wait for it to cool. Then again, he also forgot it was his birthday. He took another sip, his eyes never leaving the short, pasty-skinned man four tables down. _The Jack from Peter's note,_ Sirius was presuming. Jack sat there looking impatient. It was 3:05. Jack clearly did not like to be kept waiting. Sirius didn't much enjoy it himself, not after sitting in the same position for thirty-five minutes.

He had taken the tube and walked to the cafe, taking care to blend in with the weekday afternoon muggle crowd. His hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, a black scarf draped around his neck, covering his chin. He'd ditched his motorcycle jacket for a thrift-store blue and tan plaid overcoat over a grey turtleneck. He'd claimed a seat on a table by the door, and waited. He waited until a man arrived at 3:00 on the dot, looked around the cafe, and sat down at an empty table to wait, not bothering to order anything.

Sirius was on his third coffee by the time Peter finally showed. He looked very scruffy. His normally slicked-back hair was disheveled. And his eyes were bloodshot with worry. _For himself_ , Sirius thought darkly. Those eyes flitted over the cafe's patrons. Sirius lowered his own eyes and covered part of his face with the cup as he sipped; his former friend's searching gaze rushed past him. Peter planted himself in front of Jack, who took no care to hide his irritation. Sirius reached into his coat for his wand. Mouth still hidden behind his cup, he whispered a spell. Suddenly, he could hear the conversation as if it were happening at his own table.

"For someone who's in such a supposed hurry, ya took your own damn sweet time getting here. I ought to charge you extra for making me wait. My time ain't free, you rascal."

"I thought someone was tailing me! I have to watch my back, okay. If I had been killed, you wouldn't've gotten _any_ money, would you."

"Yeah, alright. Just pay me what ya owe me and scram."

Peter slid a bulging, dirty looking envelope across the table. Jack leafed through the contents ( _muggle money?_ ), and gave a nod. He handed Peter a small dark booklet and a strip of paper, then stood up to leave.

"Wait. Have you given me everything?" Peter's voice was panicky. "Are you sure I can leave the country with these?"

Jack's face registered confusion. "You ain't never seen a passport before? You do at least know what a plane is, right?"

Peter looked down at his new purchases, frantically reading some fine print.

"Where've you lived all your life, man? What are you?"

"Nothing!" said Peter, a little too loudly. "I mean, just another powerless muggle like yourself. I mean…"

"Muggle? What's… Never mind. Hey man I didn't sign up for any crazy. You're already holding what you paid for." With that, he practically ran out.

 _So Peter wanted to leave the country._ It would appear he had paid to acquire a muggle identity. _He thinks he can hide from me_ , Sirius chuckled. _Think again, filthy vermin._

Sirius waited until Peter had stashed his new passport and plane ticket in his pockets, then stood from his table. He dropped a few muggle notes by his cup. He wondered briefly if a hundred pounds was too much for three coffees. Not caring, he followed Peter out the door. When he turned into an alley, Sirius followed and blocked his exit.

"Hello, _Wormtail_."

Peter leaped a good three feet in the air before he turned in surprise. "S-s-sirius!"

"Oh, you still remember your old friend?" Sirius's voice was acid.

"I just heard about James and Lily. Those poor souls. Oh Padfoot!"

"Don't call me that!" Sirius spat. "And don't defile my friends' names with your filthy tongue. You filthy traitor! You rat!" Sirius was not yelling. He was speaking through grief and rage. And Peter was trembling, and his eyes flitted over Sirius's shoulder, at freedom..

"I-It's not what you think, Sirius! His voice was shrill with desperation

Grief overtook rage for a moment. "Please tell me that's true, Pete. Tell me you didn't betray them, that there's some explanation." He was breathing hard.

"Padfoot, there is! You know I loved James like a brother. And Lily! Oh, sweet Lily." His eyes widened, and registered sadness then fear. _He's a great actor_ , it occurred to Sirius. "But you have no idea the power of the Dark Lord! He _made_ me reveal the secret. The charm was no match for His dark magic!"

There was fear in his tone when he talked about Voldemort. Fear, but also a reverence. Sirius approached him. Peter backed himself into the wall, letting out a yelp when he could go no further. Before Peter could stop him, Sirius grabbed his arm and roughly pulled up the sleeve. The Dark Mark, all too familiar to a Black, was unmistakeable. "I suppose he _made you_ take the Mark too, did he?"

"Y-yes, I-"

"Tell me this. Why do you want to leave here with a muggle identity? Why haven't you gone running back to the other Death Eaters?" Sirius still had an iron grip on Peter's wrist.

"I tried!" Peter wailed, looking thoroughly miserable. "But they're out to kill me too!" Sirius's hold slackened in surprise. "They think I had something to do with the Dark Lord's fall, because He went to the Potters on my information. "

Sirius thought he detected a hint of pride with that last statement. "Enough!" He was panting again. "I'm going to kill you Peter." The traitor's eyes were afraid, but also… calculating? _What was he-_

Peter transformed to a rat and darted past Sirius. _Shit!_ Before Sirius could give chase, Peter resumed his human form to emerge from the alley. "YOU BETRAYED THEM! YOU SOLD JAMES AND LILY'S LIVES TO THE DARK LORD, SIRIUS BLACK!"

 _What the…_

Muggles had stopped to stare at the man yelling accusations at the top of his lungs. But he was no longer yelling. Just as Sirius caught up with him, he had grasped his wand and whispered, "Bombarda."

 _No!_ "Protego!"

The explosion shook the earth, and concrete debris flew about. His shield charm left Sirius mostly unhurt, but the force of the blast had thrown him a few feet away. He raised his head and saw bleeding bodies and bloody body parts. _No. He'd never meant for_ more _innocent people to die. "_ PETER!" It was too late.

He jumped to his feet, but he knew what he would find. No trace of Peter. Screams of witnesses filled the air. Sirius walked to the spot Peter had been standing. The blast had created a crater in the street. A finger lay in the center of it.

Sirius fell to his hands and knees. Blaring sirens were approaching. He laughed, a maniacal sound. It was over. _It's not over._ Plenty of witnesses would have heard what Peter had yelled out. _He must have transformed. I have to find him._ Their animagi were unregistered. No one would believe him. He guffawed. _I have to find Peter Pettigrew._

Handcuffs clamped onto his wrists. _Muggle police._ The Ministry of Magic would get him out. _They'll throw me in Azkaban if I don't find Peter._

His pockets were searched, his wand taken. _Peter._ He was shoved roughly into a police van, and cuffed to a rail near its ceiling. _Where is Peter? Where would a coward go to hide?_ The police van drove off.

Sirius laughed and he laughed. No one who knew him would have described this deranged sound as laughter. But no one who heard him knew that it was nothing like the barking sound of Sirius Black laughing.

* * *

 **November 3, 1981 - Evening**

"The accused will be brought forth." The voice of Bartemius Crouch made its muffled way to Sirius's left ear. His right one wasn't quite working as well as before after the explosion Peter had set off. Peter… He was still out there, not having _paid_ for what he'd done. To James and Lily. And Harry. And all those muggles. But mainly James and Lily. And Harry.

Sirius's shackles tightened around his wrists and ankles, and the loose one around his neck got hotter. The chains clanged as his glass cage was raised to be level with the floor of the courtroom. There was only one other human in the room. Dementors stood gathered at the rear of the hall, watching the proceedings. But Sirius did not feel them. His mind was preoccupied. _James and Lily. And Harry._ It did not even strike him as odd that this didn't feel like a trial at all - with only one person there.

Crouch was seated at the highest point. "The accused, Sirius Black," he called in an unamplified voice that still carried all the way down to Sirius's ear, "for the crimes of betraying James Potter and Lily Evans Potter to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, murdering in cold blood their loyal friend Peter Pettigrew-"

"HE LIVES!" screamed Sirius, but the glass cage was apparently soundproof, because Crouch continued without missing a beat,

"-and mercilessly ending the lives of twelve innocent muggle bystanders, is sentenced to life in Azkaban."

At these words, dementors approached Sirius from their perch in the back of the room. They glided toward the glass cage, and it turned to ice. The walls melted away, exposing Sirius. The dementors extended decayed hands towards him, and picked him up as if he weighed nothing.

Crouch had cast a patronus, and a rabbit now patrolled in front of him, protecting him from the effects of the prison guards.

 _Azkaban_ , thought Sirius. _The wizard prison. The prison with minimal security because its guards feed on all your happy thoughts._ Sirius did not have his wand with him, but it didn't occur to him to check whether he did. It didn't occur to him to _want_ to conjure a patronus. _I did not betray James and Lily. Peter did. I am innocent. Peter is not._ He could think the truth just fine, even with the dementors so close. He tried saying it out loud. "I did not betray James and Lily," he said, clear as water. "Peter did. I am innocent. Peter is not." The dementors continued carrying him away as if they had not heard. _They can only feed on happiness. James and Lily are dead_. His chest tightened severely, but he forced himself to form the words in his mind. Because they weren't happy thoughts. They were just the truth. _Harry is orphaned. My best friends are dead. Their secret keeper is a traitor. I made them choose him…_

With this thought, his head slumped, and he felt his energy draining from his body. His body felt heavier to himself, and the dementors shifted to get a better grip.

They had finally found their grip.

 _I forced them to pick him. They wanted me. I made them choose Peter. They would be alive if I had listened to them. It's my fault. My fault..._

* * *

 **A/N:** For anyone who's interested, here is an inspiration pic for Sirius's "disguise":

hespokestyle dot com / wp-content / uploads / 2015 / 12 / mens-outfit-ideas-winter-plaid-overcoat-tan-turtleneck-grey-pants-brown-suede-shoes-2-600x440 dot jpg?theia_smart_thumbnails_file_version=2

Just, more grief-stricken :C

(Obviously, replace the "dots" with actual dots, and get rid of the spaces after the slashes. It's also on my Pinterest, which you can access from my bio page.)


	7. 1993

**January 1993**

 _Morning. Maybe. Or midnight._ Sirius Black lied on his side, his sunken eyes staring at the bars of his cell. Behind him, tally marks were scratched roughly into the gray paint of the wall, some of them older than others, but none of them very recent.

When he had first arrived, Sirius had vowed to keep track of time. The dementors brought him meals twice a day. (And while he ate, they fed on his mind.) So every two meals, he scratched a mark into the wall. He didn't worry about the guards objecting; they were practically blind.

When they had first slid the tasteless broth under his cell bars, memories had come to him, unbidden. Kreacher, whom he hated, and his cooking, which he (grudgingly) loved. The Potters, whom he loved, and their house, where he'd belonged. Mrs. Potter, who'd loved him back, and her cooking, with which she'd expressed it. James, whom he loved, whom he'd lost. But apparently, all except the last of these counted as happy thoughts. And within minutes, they'd been gone. Sucked right out of him. Then, he'd eaten the broth, no longer missing the food he was once used to, scratching the days into the paint.

But then, after a few years, just like that, he'd lost count. Maybe because he no longer ate the meals every time. Or maybe because one time he forgot whether he'd counted the previous meal or not, and then kept forgetting if this was the first one or the second. Either way, there were no recent tallies in the paint on the wall.

 _Hunger?_

 **No. Just a cramp. From lying here too long.**

 _How long? An hour? A day?_

 **No. A night.**

 _Anger?_

 **No.** _ **That**_ **was hunger-hunger for revenge.**

 _What happened to that hunger? Didn't I used to feel it more often? Where did it go?_

 **Maybe because I don't eat as much now. That hunger is gone too.**

Sirius blinked. It happened by itself. He was trying to see how long he could go without doing it. But his eyes kept drying out. Each blink, he could go a little bit longer though. As if his body was drying up, one tear at a time.

 _What was that thing I used to say? That the dementors couldn't hear? Couldn't sense? That I could keep?_

"I did not kill James and Lily," he began, but no sound came out. _When did I last use my voice?_ He wondered for a moment, but quickly lost interest. Maybe he'd lost track when he lost count of the days. He took a few breaths through his mouth, and tried again. "I am innocent." It came out as a croak. Or maybe it was a hoarse whisper. He wasn't sure right then. "I did not kill James and Lily. Peter did. I am innocent. Peter is not."

He'd said it, and nothing happened. That was a good thing, but it made him lose interest nonetheless. He went back to eye-drying.

* * *

 **July, 1993**

 _He's at Hogwarts._

Sirius sat on his cot, lucid. The day's Daily Prophet lay beside him, open to a picture of a ginger-haired family standing in front of the Great Pyramid.

He had failed. So far, James and Lily went on unavenged. Harry probably went on thinking his godfather was a murderous traitor. If he even knew about the godfather thing. He had failed as a friend as a guardian. And Peter went on living as the _pet_ of Harry's friend. A pet! A murderous traitor with no conscience living as a pet! He bolted to his feet. He needed to get out. Thoughts of his godson had allowed a tendril of hope to slip into his mind. It felt foreign, but vaguely familiar. Like an old friend he hadn't met in many years. ( _Is this how it will feel when I meet Remus?_ ) But the hope was tinged with an urgency. Rats were allowed as pets at Hogwarts. That boy would probably unwittingly bring Peter with him into Hogwarts… probably had been bringing him since first year. All this time, Sirius had been assuming Harry was safe. But if Hogwarts wasn't safe, then Harry was not safe. Peter. Peter was at Hogwarts.

 _He's at Hogwarts._

He was with Harry. That boy was Harry's friend. Were they roommates too? _Did Peter live in the same room as Harry?_ The thought sent him into a spiral of emotions. Panic, anger, revulsion. Panic, anger… _He's at Hogwarts._

Exhaustion won over the struggle in his mind. His empty stomach lulled him into sleep, even as the thought playing at the front of his mind made its way to the tip of his tongue. " _He's at Hogwarts."_

Sirius awoke, feeling that tendril of hope again as the infant form of his godson materialized in his mind. It hadn't occurred to him yet that twelve years had passed and Harry probably didn't look like that anymore. But he was acutely aware of something else entirely.

 _They're coming. For this tendril._ The dementors had not fed on his cell in a long time. There had simply been nothing to feed on Until now. _They won't have it._

A howl of anguish emanated from deep within him. It was a sound louder than any he'd made in twelve years. And as he listened to himself yell, he felt a pop in his right ear. The rest of his scream died in his throat. Acute pain overtook his suddenly functional ear. Sensory overload rendered him disoriented for a few moments. And then, he heard it. Loud and clear. The raspy breathing, getting closer. He hadn't heard this clearly since before meeting a dementor. But in this moment, he could tell by their rasping how many seconds he had left.

Before he knew what he was doing, he transformed.

He'd spent a lot of time as a dog during his earlier days as a prisoner. It made the dementors a little easier to bear. Then it had stopped mattering. His dog form was a lot thinner and a lot shaggier than he remembered. _But it still works_.

The rasping stopped getting closer. Intrigued, Padfoot sat down, and waited. The dementors resumed their approach and showed themselves a few moments later. They hovered right in front of the bars, but Padfoot didn't feel them. At least not like Sirius had. The tendril had taken root. He padded closer to the bars, and looked up at his castigators, cocking his shaggy head to one side. _They can't sense me,_ he concluded. Then, he did the most obvious thing he could think of. He walked out of the cell.

His emaciated body, in its canine form, met no obstructions, slipping easily through bars and guards alike. He walked and walked. When he got to water, he swam. And then he shook the water out of his fur and walked again. Two images flashed incessantly in his mind's eye: a blond man's face, with pudgy cheeks and beady eyes; and the other a beautiful baby, sleeping soundly, wrapped in a snitch-print blanket.

* * *

 **A/N:** This is it, folks - the end of this story. We know where it goes after this. I hope I've done justice to Sirius, and that the story was as enjoyable to read as it was to write. Any feedback is much appreciated.


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